


What an Expression

by ravyn_sinclair



Category: Sex Pistols | Love Pistols
Genre: Extended Scene, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Spoilers, but more just following thoughts, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:17:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravyn_sinclair/pseuds/ravyn_sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David blinked, turning around.  'He's quiet today.'  Not that he normally was loud, but...Maximillian usually had such a commanding presence, his aura filling up any enclosure and ensuring that everyone knew that he was there.  He didn't even have to speak.  His presence by itself spoke enough.</p>
<p>But when David looked at him, the man seemed...not muted, but different.  Maximillian sat on the couch, long pale-blond hair still with the post-shower shine to it and his pajamas clinging in spots from the dampness on his skin.  He looked uncomfortable on the couch, looked like something was weighing on him.</p>
<p>He looked small.</p>
<p>He looked nervous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What an Expression

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY HI GUYS IF YOU LOVE SEX/LOVE PISTOLS THEN YOU ROCK
> 
> But on a serious note. So, this is less of a fan fiction and more of a novelization of how I saw the scene play out. If you've read Max/David's arc, then you know what scene I'm talking about. If you haven't, then I warn you, this is almost word for word what happens in the manga. This contains spoilers. I will admit, the ending DOESN'T quite follow how the rest of the scene plays out, but it DOES, in fact, keep to cannon. You'll see what I mean.
> 
> I decided to write this out because I was reading the scene and I looked at Max's face and one word came to mind: Vulnerable. And then I thought - Ravyn, you can do better than that. You can look at this and think of more words than 'vulnerable'. So I got my laptop out and started typing away. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys! Leave a comment or a kudo, I love them both!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own in any way, shape, or form Sex Pistols/Love Pistols. It belongs to Tarako Kotobuki. I only enjoy what they have created.

David hummed as he added crushed pepper to the simple meal he made. It had been a good week – the professors had gotten off his back about his art projects, his friends had gotten word about his 'bath' in the university fountain, Makio had called him for the first time since she left for Japan...

'And Maximillian hasn't yelled at me at all this week,' he thought with a grin.

He put the pepper away, making sure to put the shaker on it's little tablet in the cabinet before grabbing the large serving dish and walking over to the dining table. Avocado and watercress, simple, but one of Maximillian's favorites. The long haired man always looked happier when eating the dish, and David wanted to do something nice for the man in return for finally agreeing to model for him.

'Well, I shouldn't say _agreeing_ ,' he amended with a chuckle, returning to the kitchen to grab some plates. 'More like he lost a bet. But he handled it very well, considering.'

David thought back to a few days ago, to when Maximillian had refused – again – to model for him, complaining about not wanting to strip for the sculptor. Of course, David took that as a challenge (honestly, it's a wonder that David had made it through so many years at the Uni, he took everything as a challenge) and had placed a bet on the table. If he could replicate any small object that Maximillian put into his hands blindfolded, then David would have his model for just an hour. Scoffing, Maximillian had placed a small decorative trinket in his hands, and just a few minutes later, David took off the blindfold to set a drying clay replica of the trinket on the table before him.

Maximillian had flushed a bright red and promptly refused to take off his clothes. David had only laughed, cheered that he had gotten his model after asking (begging) for over two months and dragged the other male in front of him, saying he didn't need to see. He did the sculpting with his _hands_ , so his hands, when looking at his models, became his _eyes_.

David chuckled again, pulling the plates down from their spot in the cabinet. 'Haaa, he's such a terribly beautiful man,' he thought. 'I can't wait to finally get the right amount of clay to start on his piece. Though, I'm surprised he didn't hit me – I practically did nothing but feel him up for the better part of an hour.'

There was a small regret that he wouldn't get to have more time learning the other man's body, but he took what he could get. He professors didn't call him a sculpting genius for nothing.

He was just taking off his apron when the door down the hall to the bathroom opened. Hanging the apron up, he greeted Maximillian. “Hey, done already? Just in time for dinner!”

David heard soft footsteps pad into the living room, and the sound of someone plopping tiredly onto the couch. Maximillian's soft voice floated over to him. “Yes, I'm done...”

David blinked, turning around. 'He's quiet today.' Not that he normally was loud, but...Maximillian usually had such a commanding presence, his aura filling up any enclosure and ensuring that everyone knew that he was there. He didn't even have to speak. His presence by itself spoke enough.

But when David looked at him, the man seemed...not muted, but different. Maximillian sat on the couch, long pale-blond hair still with the post-shower shine to it and his pajamas clinging in spots from the dampness on his skin. He looked uncomfortable on the couch, looked like something was weighing on him.

He looked small.

He looked nervous.

David frowned, abandoning the kitchen and went to crouch down in front of Maximillion. He bent his head down until he caught the man's downturned eyes, noting the normally glacial blue was more of a bright azure. “Hey,” he called, gathering his attention. “What's wrong? Did something happen?”

Maximillian held his gaze for just a moment before his eyes slid away and to the side, and David noticed the pallor of his skin, a couple shade paler than usual. “...No,” came his soft reply, and David's concern grew.

“But – you don't seem okay,” David countered, hoping that if he pressed the man would open up to him. Maximillian may act like David was a thorn in his side most of the time, but the ginger liked to think that they had gotten close enough in the past several months to confide in each other.

To his surprise, Maximillian flushed and reached a hand up to tug on a lock of his hair, brow furrowing in...some complicated emotion that flitted across his face too fast for David to follow.

“Maximillian?” David called, and when Maximillian nearly flinched at his name David decided to stop pressing and plastered a comforting smile on his face, reaching a hand up to grip the hand his friend had in his hair. “Hey, I made dinner today. You'll eat it, right?” Bright azure eyes flitted up to his amber ones, and David's smile grew. “I only made you're favorites – no meat, I promise.”

Maximillian dipped his head and some of his damp hair fell in front of his face, like a thin viel. “...I...My first impression of you was that you were ill-mannered,” Maximillian whispered.

David blinked. “Huh?”

“When you first asked me, in that bookshop, to be your model, I knew instantly that we attended the same university,” came Maximillian's sudden confession, like he was revealing a deep secret.

David pulled his hand back with Maximillian dropped his own. “Wait. You knew about me?”

“If there were people fooling around, you were surely in the center of it. You were always lively, laughing loudly or angry...” Maximillian sighed, as if exhausted. “A mass of energy.”

“Did I disturb you because I was too noisy?” David joked, poking fun at Maximillian avoiding him for two weeks after their initial meeting. When Maximillian said nothing and just...sat there, with his hair in his face, David reached a hand up, brushing the cool hair out of his face and touched the back of his hand to the man's forhead. “No fever...”

Maximillian gave him a slow blink. “I'm alright...”

David smiled, brushing his hand back into the man's hair and reaching up with his other hand to cup the man's jaw. “You say that, but pajamas at this hour?”

Maximillian was silent for a moment, not meeting his friend's eyes and instead staring at his shirt, his hands in his lap. David was about to open his mouth and ask if he was sure he was alright, when Maximillian breathed, “It's easier if I wear silk, right?”

_“This would be easier,” he said, smiling as he slowly ran his hands down the man's shoulder blades and along the line of his spine, “if you were wearing the silk pajamas.” He kneaded the tense muscles, a silent demand for Maximillian to relax as his hands tried to feel the blond's shape through his work clothes. “The champagne-gold ones. With those, you're subtle roughness can be felt.”_

David sucked in a sharp breath as the memory suddenly surfaced, and with a jolt he realized that Maximillian was, in fact, wearing the silk pajamas, champagne-gold and David knew they were soft and thin, unbelievably so, and that Maximillian only wore them on too-warm nights.

It was mid November.

The smile disappeared from David's face to be replaced by a frown. His concern for the man in front of his suddenly tripled. 'Why is he suddenly offering to be a model?' he wondered. 'He's only modeled for me the once, and it was only because he lost a bet...'

“Did something happen?” he asked, a hint of a demand in his voice as his concern grew. Maximillian only shook his head, once, hair swaying with the gentle motion. He breathed out a sigh through his nose and leaned forward into his friend's space, hands moving down to grip his friend's shoulders, trying to see Maximillian's expression. “...Are you sure?”

Maximillian stilled for just a moment...

And nodded.

So David crouched lower and reached down for Maximillian's slim ankles. “Please stand up,” he said, fingers brushing up into the thin pajamas to brush against the tight tendons on each leg. Maximillian hesitated for just a moment but complied, standing shakily to his feet and David focused his attention away from his friends face, choosing instead to focus on his own hands.

David brought them slowly up, fingers rubbing in smooth circles as he brought them over the silk, his hands painting Maximillian's shape in his mind – slim ankles, angled calves, the hard line of the shin that dipped in just so before rounding out into knees; two more tight tendons behind the knee that smoothed into soft, supple skin. He brought them higher, slowly, fingers soothing over firm thighs that shivered in his hold, the hard muscle tight under the outer thigh and the smooth skin that was warm on the inner thigh.

Maximillian sucked in a breath above him and David frowned, his own emotions a mess, and buried his own face into the man's stomach. Usually his models were women, all of them eager to let the ginger run his hands anywhere on their bodies for the sake of art – and sometimes more. This, what he was doing, was usually an intimate process, and for that reason was why he only did Maximillian's upper body last time. Yes, he had teased, saying that he would like a three hour session to map the man's body and get a full disclosure, but he hadn't wanted for a second to put Maximillian out of his comfort zone.

For Maximillian to do it himself, however...

David's heart gave an almost painful thump in his chest, and he slid his nose across Maximillian's stomach and nosed his hip, breathing deeply to try and settle his heartbeat. It didn't work. His hands smoothed back across the man's outer thighs, brushing lightly along the way – and David tried to ignore the soft noise that Maximillian made at that, he did – and his fingers spread across firm globes. His hands rested there, fingers simply brushing, feeling the subtle dimples and (enjoying) the way Maximillian trembled in his grasp.

And then he angled his fingers inward, reaching for the cleft, fingers fanning out and without a thought David _squeezed_ , just a light pressure and his palms pushed up into the curve where his buttocks met with the backs of his thighs, mind mapping out the firmness of it and the way Maximillian gave a breathy whine. And David couldn't help it; he brushed in nose down, just a bit, to the silk shirt's hem and then dragged it back up, over the silk-clad hip and then up some more, past the band and suddenly he was breathing in Maxillian's scent.

Cool, like snow, and with just a hint of musk.

He brushed his nose across the skin, lips parting and allowing his breath to dampen the pale, pale skin of Maximillian's stomach as he slowly dragged his hands forward – pulling the silk across his skin with the pressure of his hands alone – to grip sharp hips briefly. He fluttered his fingers, almost mimicking the way his own heart fluttered when Maximillian stuttered out a breath above him, and then he pulled his face away, letting the shirt drop down and allowing his hands the room to smooth over the tight expanse of silk covered abs. David glanced up, for the first time in minutes – minutes, maybe, how long has it been? – to see Maximillian with his brow furrowed, eyes clenched shut, and his normally pale pink lips turned nearly red at his worried them between his white, white teeth.

And David sighed, pushing the heat back for a moment as he brought his hands up, standing with the motion, and gripped Maximillian's neck with one and wrapping his shoulder with another, pulling the man in for a hug.

“Maximillian,” he breathed, then said his name again, voice clearer, “Maximillian.”

Maximillian seemed to shiver at his own name. David sighed and nosed the man's neck, the arm around his shoulders dropping to grip a hip and the fingers on the man's neck sliding up into his hair, smoothing circles into the man's skin.

“Open your eyes.”

Maximillian jumped. David tightened his grip, burying his nose further into the long neck. “I thought we had gotten closer, these past months,” he said. “Am I not trustworthy enough for you to confide in?”

A shaky breath exhaled over his ear, and David felt two trembling hands reach up and clutch into his shirt sleeves near his elbows. “What happened?” he asked, voice heavy with concern as he pulled back. “Tell me, Maximillian.”

And then he saw his face.

“ _Ah..._ ” David's voice caught in his throat, amber eyes taking in blond lashes that hooded shimmering azure eyes, brow angled up almost in pain but not furrowed with it, lips shiny and near red and teeth worn and parted just so, and cheeks dusted pink framed with a halo of golden hair, the evening light from the window catching behind him and highlighting him with warm colors, so different from his usual cool blue and white and pale blond.

He was _breathtaking._

_“What an expression...”_

Maximillian ducked his head, fingers clenching at David's sleeves. He licked his lips, and David followed the action with his eyes, and the heat from just a few moments before returned in full force. For once, he didn't care that Maximillian was a man.

He was beautiful. Breathtakingly, terribly _beautiful._

“I...You're in my head. You're the only one in my head.”

David nearly jolted at the words. Staring with wide eyes at the man in his arms.

Maximillian met his eyes for just a moment, eyes still shimmering, and turned his head to the side, hair falling with the motion and revealing the long line of his neck, tendon long and smooth and David was hit with the sudden, powerful urge to mark it, to taint the pale skin with dark blemishes – and they would be dark, wouldn't they, with the natural pale pallor of his skin, so _easy_ to mark...

“I like you.”

Neither of them ate dinner that night. Neither of them cared.

**Author's Note:**

> If you know the scene as well as I do, then you know that they don't ever get to eat the food.
> 
> WHELP, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or a kudo, I love them both! If you have any critiques for me, I love those too. Can never have too much!
> 
> Kisses!


End file.
